


A Small Scrap

by cilliance



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Enemies, Gen, M/M, Scriddler, riddler/scarecrow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 21:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilliance/pseuds/cilliance
Summary: An extra piece for my other fic “Rogue Heart.”A look into the fight between Riddler and Scarecrow, but this time from Jonathan’s perspective.Takes place towards the end of (and just after) Chapter 3, but could probably be read independently.





	A Small Scrap

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rogue Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160194) by [cilliance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilliance/pseuds/cilliance). 



> Oof, I meant to finish this a while ago before I posted chapter four. But anyway, here it is!

Jonathan took the back alleys, making his way back to his hideout in an abandoned office building in lower East Chinatown. He’d found the place after getting out of Arkham about eight months earlier. It met his basic needs, but Jonathan hated the place. Especially with all manner of miscreants and reprobates crawling around the place. He’d already had his makeshift home broken into over three times already, but nothing had been stolen because Jonathan owned nothing for a common criminal to find worth stealing. Instead, he’d simply come home to discover all of his things had been strewn about as if a tornado had torn through the place. 

In the end, it was no matter. Despite making Jonathan’s skin crawl at the obvious notion of just how easy it was for anyone to break into his hideout, he was also relieved that none of the thieves had been hired to steal (or had simply found an interest in) his batches of fear toxin. His toxin was his life’s work, and he was highly possessive of it. Anyone who attempted to steal or replicate it met a fate worse than even those who made pathetic attempts at threatening Jonathan’s life. 

On this particular day, Jonathan had been out gathering some materials for a new batch of fear toxin. Nothing that would put him on Batman’s radar like stealing adrenaline samples from ACE Chemicals, but pocketing some ampules of LSD from Gotham’s local drug dealers did no harm… yet.  

Speaking of reprobates, as Jonathan was just about to enter his building, he heard the clattering of metal coming from the scrapyard across the street. He immediately assumed it just some destitute and was going to pay no mind to it, but he glanced up for a moment to see a swath of green. Doing a double-take, Jonathan realized it was, of course, the Riddler of all people. 

Jonathan set the small box of drugs down next to the office door and observed Nygma’s actions. Jonathan was already on high alert, and he couldn’t figure out what on Earth Nygma was doing with that scrap metal. Perhaps the scrap metal meant nothing. Perhaps Edward had figured out where he lived, and this rummaging around was just a ploy to find the opportunity to spy on him. Jonathan knew that Edward had a great interest in his fear toxin and wanted to use it in his death traps, so Jonathan had become particularly wary of letting the Riddler near any batches (besides being the unfortunate test subject, that is). Before Jonathan could make any further guesses, though, the Riddler looked up and made direct eye contact with him.  

Jonathan was tired. He was on edge, and locking eyes with the Riddler brought out an instinctive sense of aggression that he rarely felt. Without thinking, he began walking towards Edward, hand reaching for the full syringe of fear toxin that he always kept on him for times like this. At the sight, Edward quickly dropped what he was carrying and brandished a small knife from his pocket, pointing it at Jonathan threateningly. Edward was the first to make a move, reaching out and swiping at him. Jonathan swiftly dodged it and gave Edward the strongest kick to the jaw that he could which, admittedly, was not very strong at all. 

Still, Edward grunted in pain, cradling his jaw as he made another swing at Jonathan. This time, Jonathan did not move fast enough and hissed when he felt a sudden stinging sensation across the backs of his fingers. The wound was superficial, but it was enough to cause Jonathan to drop the needle he was holding. Jonathan didn’t see Edward stick his leg out to trip him, and within seconds, Jonathan found himself on his back. Black spots danced before his eyes, and he both heard and felt the glass syringe shatter under his weight. 

When his sight finally cleared, Jonathan looked over and grabbed Edward by the ankle, pulling him as hard as he could. The Riddler fell to the ground alongside him with a quiet yelp, and his knife clattered across the small side street, out of reach. Jonathan heard a muted thud as Edward’s head hit the pavement. He watched him put his hand to the back of his head and pull it back to look at it. The blood on the Riddler’s fingers was enough to snap Jonathan out of his haze, realizing that his acts of aggression were both ridiculous and unnecessary. It was too late to back out now, however, so while Jonathan still had the upper hand, he sat up to straddle Edward’s torso, wrapping his hands around his throat to keep him in his place. 

“What are you doing here?” he snapped. 

Edward had a look of alarm on his face. “I’m not here for you, I swear!” Edward wheezed, reaching up to claw at the hands around his throat, “What are  _ you  _ doing here?”

Suddenly, Jonathan felt very silly. Edward had not been after him at all. He hadn’t even known that Jonathan lived around here. He quickly got up off Edward, brushing himself off and fixing his glasses. He walked over to pick up Edward’s knife, deciding to point it at Edward in case the man decided to make another move. Jonathan felt very, very tired. 

“That’s none of your business, Edward. Walk away.” was all he could think to say. 

Edward bristled. Then, seemingly as dramatically as he could, Edward picked himself up, tugged hard on the hem of his shirt with a huff, and stomped off. As all the adrenaline and epinephrine left his system, Jonathan felt that deep ache settle into his bones once more. 

Still watching Edward’s retreating figure, Jonathan tossed the knife into the gutter, then turned back towards the door to his home. He picked up the small box of ampules and began slowly limping his way up several flights of stairs to the room he’d decided to call home. Jonathan set the box down at his desk. 

Jonathan groaned as he bent down to sift through the old first aid kit he’d found in one of the cabinets. He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, carefully pulling it off, trying not to brush the fabric against his scraped elbow while also attempting to not disturb his bruised tailbone. He first dealt with his bleeding hand, cleaning it with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide and giving each of his four fingers a bandage of its own. He then grabbed a pair of tweezers, pulling out a couple of small glass splinters that were stuck in his elbow. He couldn’t help but hiss at the acute pain it left him with. Each time he dug back in, he thought of another expletive to refer to the Riddler.

He cleaned his elbow with the same cotton ball he’d used for his other wound, this time also using an antibiotic ointment, and wrapped it in another bandage. When he finished fixing up his wounds, Jonathan took off his shoes and went to lay down on the old, decaying mattress he’d moved to one corner. 

Jonathan looked up at the water-damaged ceiling, listening to the sounds of the city that refused to let him sleep. He thought back to what the Riddler had been doing before he’d needlessly attacked him. If it had not been a cover, perhaps the scrap metal had been meant for one of the Riddler’s projects. Jonathan thought in passing that consulting with Edward on his own projects would likely save him a lot of time and money. Moreso if they got along, but that did not seem fated to be.  

When Jonathan had first met Edward, he’d thought of him as not being worth a second glance, despite all his bravado. However, they seemed to be inexplicably drawn closer together, for better or for worse. 

All Jonathan hoped was that none of this ended in disaster. 

It probably would, anyway. 


End file.
